


salt in the wound

by floatingsumaru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Blood, F/F, Genderbending, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingsumaru/pseuds/floatingsumaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Did you think we'd be fine? Still got scars on my back from your knife<br/>So don't think it's in the past, these kinda wounds they last and they last<br/>--Taylor Swift, "Bad Blood"</p>
</blockquote><br/>Bad Blood AU. From "Welcome to New York" to, of course, "Bad Blood".<br/>
            </blockquote>





	salt in the wound

“I came to take this back, Oikawa-san.”

 

Kageyama’s voice is stubborn; the set of her mouth, absolute. A heavy metal briefcase is clutched in her hands, and every tremor that would normally stutter Kageyama’s voice is instead in the slight shaking of her wrists, the nervous sweep of her glossy pin-straight ponytail, the way she can’t quite look Oikawa in the eye. There’s wrinkles pulling up Kageyama’s tight black skirt, there’s runs in her thin black stockings, and she’s wearing a trenchcoat against the rain falling heavy against the skyscraper glass; but it does nothing to cover her heartbeat so loud in the dim flickering of fluorescent lights, and Oikawa is known to never miss a thing.

 

“I can read you like a magazine, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa says, and the slide of her small smile is as sharp as the flex of her hands, fingers poised ready at her side. Her face is half shadows and all Kageyama can see is the bright red of her perfect lipstick mouth; Kageyama has never seen it smeared, even in the training ring, in the dirt of the field, against the white cotton cast of old hotel sheets and sweat and spit sticking to the line of Kageyama’s thighs. “It's been a while since I’ve heard from you, and now here you are… my adorable Tobio-chan, back from the dead to cause me more trouble.”

 

“You _left_ me there,” Kageyama scowls and her eyes flick down; Oikawa does not miss that either.

 

 _Only because I always knew you were going to catch up_ , Oikawa thinks, but instead: “The mistake you always make is that you only watch my hands.”

 

And Oikawa arcs them high, and she almost laughs at the gullible way Kageyama automatically tracks them; it leaves her unbalanced, weight at the back of her feet for one clumsy moment, and it’s familiar, it’s so familiar, and Kageyama knows it all too well, the blue of her eyes wide as Oikawa presses in against Kageyama’s long unsteady legs, kicks the full of her weight into the soft muscle of Kageyama’s thighs.

 

(Oikawa has always been tall; with stiletto heels, she absolutely towers, and her heels are always, always metal sharp.)

 

(Kageyama’s skin is a map of light-coloured scars, a stitch for every lesson she ever had to learn.)

 

“All you had to do was stay,” Oikawa says, almost too softly. Some might think she was smiling, if they knew nothing at all.

 

The rain drums against the window behind Kageyama like a too fast heartbeat, like bullets striking in the distance, like the crack of glass; and when the glass shatters under Kageyama’s weight, it too, sounds like the rain hitting the concrete several stories below.

 

Oikawa forgets how fast Kageyama is on her feet, sometimes.

 

She feels the cold of the metal suitcase against her side, she feels the terror grip of Kageyama’s arms pulling her along by the hips, and Oikawa is not sure if it’s adrenaline or heartache or the delirious feeling of being too alive in this moment, that knocks the breath from her mouth, and then she feels the flying glass against her face, too. Headlights pass the window pane from too close, and Oikawa lets herself close her eyes as she feels the rush of cold air, the rain like knives against her skin, the way Kageyama trembles as Oikawa wraps her arms around her, mid-flight.

 

They don’t hit concrete; they hit a canopy of steel and glass instead, and Oikawa almost sighs in exasperation as she feels Kageyama reach for her hand as they lie there, waiting for the bleeding to stop.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't even very good, but it makes me ugly laugh because it's possibly the most hilarious checklist of Things I Like ever. Throw this account to the goddamn wolves.


End file.
